Midnight — Moscow
The city slept beneath a blanket of snow and silence, but Vardhan Rajvanshi moved like a storm with no forecast. He stepped into his penthouse, removing his gloves with deliberate calm, the sharp clink of his Rolex echoing in the stillness. It was his last night in Moscow — a city painted in his dominance — and yet, an unfamiliar restlessness coiled beneath his skin. Maybe it wasn’t the city he didn’t want to leave... maybe it was the person waiting behind closed doors.
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